Booty Call
by Mrs Dionysius O'Gall
Summary: Luke Danes had a secret. Written for Erica Bing for the 2006 LL Picficathon. 100 per cent spoiler free, if you've seen Season 5.
1. Of Cloakroom and Limo

Luke Danes had a secret. 

It was a secret that had caused Anna to first lose interest in him. (Anna was a lot more conservative in those days.) He'd thought that she at least would be interested.

He hadn't even dared ask Rachel the first time they were together; and the second time, the time when Lorelai was already in his life, he thought he'd try again. That version of Rachel had been adventurous, but even she, quote, 'refused to be objectified.'

And now there was Lorelai.

They'd been together for almost a year. One small, but hellish break-up, and one spectacular reconciliation.

It was around that time in their relationship that Luke felt compelled to reveal his secret.

-  
Luke and Lorelai were riding home in a limousine following Lorelai's spectacular professional success with the magazine. The alcohol had flowed freely and Luke and Lorelai had spent an evening without inhibitions in New York City. That is, after the formal, business meet-and-greet part of the evening had transpired. In a room full of good food, copious alcohol, and none of the eyes of the town upon them, Luke and Lorelai felt free.

Until this moment in the limousine, Luke had thought their interlude in the cloakroom had been the highlight of the night. But it was clear, as his hand rested on Lorelai's knee, and he listened to her declarations of just what she was willing to do to him once they got back to his place, that what happened in the cloakroom was small potatoes compared to Lorelai's promises of primordial action.

The cloakroom. Luke was normally a reticent, reserved person, and Lorelai, while definitely outgoing, was no exhibitionist.

At one point in the evening, Lorelai had taken a little longer coming back from the ladies' room, so Luke, naturally concerned--they were in the big bad apple, after all--had gone to the foyer to look for her. Giggling, she emerged from the ladies' room, teetering and tottering on her high heels. With a grin born of sheer happiness on his face, Luke approached her, keeping her from stumbling. Even as he did so, he appreciatively scanned her from head to toe.

Perfection, even if inebriated.

And though, if truth were told, his favorite part of his favorite, and only, lady was the space between her ears, and the mouth that spewed forth so much delightful silliness, he was a leg man. And this woman, she had legs.

Oh yeah.

It wasn't so much that they discussed the matter, or that they even communicated about it, but as he helped her back to the ballroom where the magazine event was being held, they stopped at the coat-check.

It was unattended.

Eyes met, and Lorelai's grin widened, and before he knew it, Lorelai was pressed against the far wall of the cloakroom, out of sight of passersby. Her dress was up around her waist, her little white lace thong was torn away (did he really do that?) and he was unzipped and buried all the way inside her.

They were both laughing and giggling uncontrollably, as Lorelai wrapped her legs around him. No foreplay was required; the entire evening had served that purpose. A beautiful, sexy, enticing woman. A sexy, handsome, cleans-up-good man. With eyes only for the other. Available only to the other. Just being together at this stage in their relationship was foreplay.

It was quick, it was exhilarating, it was illicit and it was joyful. That night, Luke laughed more than he had during his entire adult life.

And now they were alone again, in the privacy of a limousine. Her salmon-hued dress had once more slipped up over her knees. His hand, which these days more often than not rested on her knee, moved up and down her leg. Over the smoothness of her knee, and down the front of her leg. Then back up again, up up up over the rounded terrain of her knee to the softer flesh on her thigh. A gentle squeeze on the yielding flesh, on thighs that could be at once soft and yet strong as steel. Then upward, as he remembered how he'd destroyed her thong, he was intoxicated by her nearness.

It was then that he knew he'd have to ask her. It was then that he knew that he'd have to tell her his little secret. About what he really liked.

But first, he'd take her home. Take her to bed. And let her follow up on her promise of primordial sex.

-----

He could not tell her that night. Not because he chickened out, not because he didn't want to, but because, when Lorelai said she was going to get primordial, well, she'd treated him to a night that most men would write to Penthouse about. A night that required sleeping in the next day. He wondered how she'd even been able to walk out of the apartment unassisted.

Waking up at the opposite end of the bed, seeing the trail of clothing throughout his apartment, he couldn't tell her that morning, for she had already left. Sookie was having her baby.

But having moved from the back recesses of his mind to the forefront, his secret nagged at Luke. How would she take it? Would she do it? She certainly seemed adventurous.

Maybe he shouldn't ask her. Things were so good between them, and even better in the bedroom and the various other places where Lorelai had taught him to have sex. The lobby of the Dragonfly after dark, behind the desk. Against the door of the diner, after hours of course, the diner bells jingling as their movements grew more frenetic. In the bed of his truck, upon a soft pile of blankets, looking up at the stars, unable to decide which stars shone brightest: her eyes as she made love to him, or the stars above.

Hell, what was the worst that could happen? She'd laugh him out of bed? Surely, something as benign as what he had in mind wouldn't gross her out. Wait. Maybe she was more like Rachel. Didn't want to be 'objectified.'

And if she said 'no', well, he'd live with it. But if she said 'yes', he'd be beyond thrilled.

It was NOT as if he was asking if he could wear women's clothing, or do something kinky (though Lord knew what Lorelai would describe with that adjective...) No, he'd simply be asking her to wear…the boots.

For Luke Danes was a boot fetishist.

TBC


	2. Of Jimmies and Morton's

Luke Danes was a boot fetishist. 

No, not the dominatrix kind of boot. Although he'd always thought that Anna would fit that scenario particularly well. Rachel, he saw more as the type to wear hunting or motorcycle boots. Sturdy and practical, yet the leather would just be so…

Luke jolted back to reality. It was true, however. Luke just loved the sight of a woman in boots. His favorite? Short little black high-heeled boots. A woman in boots, and well, nothing else. Nothing else at all. Luke loved it when a woman slowly crossed her legs after being seated. He loved the way that a woman's legs looked in high-heeled boots. And then there was that one special pair, the one Lorelai had ordered but never received…

But sadly for him, in a relationship, he'd always been involved with women who insisted on following certain unspoken relationship rules. And those were rather narrowly defined, rather conventional.

But Lorelai? She was different. Sure, she was a free spirit, but more importantly, Luke felt safe with her. Felt he could tell her things, like the Dark Day. Felt that she was both loving and accepting. And he remembered her in the cloakroom in New York City. And up against the door of the diner. And late at night behind the Dragonfly's reception. Maybe now it was time to see how willing Lorelai was going to be to break those unspoken rules.

-----

"Luke?"

Lorelai sounded confused, even a tad concerned.

Lorelai had gone upstairs to the apartment because she had a slight headache, but told him not to worry, by the time her got up there, she'd be all over the headache.

As he entered the apartment, he noticed that the lights were low. Made sense, if her head ached. He also saw that she was kneeling next to the bed.

Oh oh.

"Lorelai? Are you OK"  
Luke knew that her eyes would be scanning the room for him in the dim light. His eyes had already adjusted, and he saw that she was still in the pale blue hoodie and sweats from earlier.

"Luke?" she asked again, louder and more fearful.

Oh oh. She had pulled a long box out from under the bed.

"C'mere," he growled, hoping to distract her.

"Luke, what's this?"

He smiled at her, hoping to come across as nonchalant, normal, matter-of-fact. But the way she was looking at him, his smile might as well have been feral, he thought. He moved closer to her, and as he did so, he could feel the uncertainty radiating off her body like heat.

"Uh, what's what?"

"These. Boots."

"Ummm…"

"Ooh, Jimmy Choos!" she suddenly squealed, holding up an especially beautiful, especially spiky pair.

Inexplicably, Luke felt proud of himself. He'd researched those boots quite carefully. He'd even gone to Manolo the Blog (all while pretending to Kirk that he was shopping for Liz) to check out the recommendations.

"Luke…" The uncertainty had returned to her voice.

For her part, Lorelai was perplexed as she handled the…merchandise…in front of her. She turned boot over boot over in her hands, and as she examined each new, exquisite item, she mulled her discovery over in her mind. This discovery was unexpected. Was he buying her presents and stashing them, waiting for the proper time to gift her? Were these boots for another woman? Given the circumstances, she doubted that was it. Luke was more likely to give her a gift, rather than engage in a tryst, rather than cheating on her.

She turned, to find him standing next to her.

For all the world, he looked like a man caught cheating. Yet at the same time, his relief was plain to see.

"Luke?"

"C'mere," he growled again, motioning with his chin and, sitting down on the bed, patting the space beside him.

Lorelai reached her hand up and he assisted her into a standing position. She took her place next to him.

Luke took a deep breath. "God, this is so hard."

"Oh my god. You are cheating on me." Lorelai began to hyperventilate. "I knew it. You were too perfect. The perfect man. What was I thinking? This is me. I don't get to have the per…"

"What are you talking about, Lorelai? Are you crazy? I would never cheat on you," he reassured her.

"But…all these boots…Wait! I've got it! They're for my birthday, right? And Christmas! And Ground Hog Day! And Founders' Day! Especially the Jimmy Choos. Can I have those first?"

Luke patted Lorelai's hand. His thoughts were all over the place. He had to tell her. But how?

"I…"

"Oh my god. I've ruined things. Ruined your surprise. I'm such an idiot. I…"

"Lorelai. It's not that. It's…it's just that I like…"

"You like me wearing boots. Got it. But now I've ruined your surprise. Just remember, the Jimmy Choos go first…" Luke watched in horror as Lorelai bent over and began rummaging through the large box she'd discovered.

She'd found them.

"Why Luke Danes, you…you…Oh, I love you! So much!" And wielding a pair of yellow fishing boots, she reached around his neck, hugged him, and placed at least a dozen kisses all over his face, head and neck.

"Luke," she continued, taking a break but still waving the boots, "You remembered! Even though we broke up, you kept them! The Morton' s Salt Girl boots. You remembered."

The look on Lorelai's face was so heartrendingly that of a woman in love, that Luke began to reconsider telling her about the boots. No one had ever looked at him that way before. Maybe she'd just put them on and he'd never have to tell her, and then he'd just give her all the boots as a gift, except…he'd have to explain why he wanted to keep them at his place.

Time to take the plunge.

"I like boots."

"You like boots." She parroted his statement, not as a question, but delivered it in the same flat, even tone he'd used.

"No. Lorelai, I really like boots." Luke tried to put a little more emotion into his statement. "Really…" he gulped, "like them."

After a beat, he added, "On girls. On…you…"

He could actually see the pieces fall into place, like dominoes knocked over in one of those knock the domino over contests.

Click. Click. Click. The pieces fell into place.

"You like boots…like…like…during…"

"Yes."

That admission had a different effect than he'd expected. Anna had been indignant. Rachel, outraged in a feminist sense. Lorelai?

Lorelai Gilmore burst out laughing. Luke watched in misery as her body shook, her hand slapped her knee, and a pink flush slowly rose across her throat, up her neck, then across her cheeks.

"Oh my God…" She continued laughing, then suddenly stopped, seeing the expression on his face, her eyes fixing on his.

"Alrighty-then," she said, attempting normalcy after she'd calmed down, "I'm going bed."

That was it?

"Still have a headache," she shrugged, apologetically. "That's why I was down there…" She indicated the floor. "Dropped my Tylenol."

Oh. OK.

"Here, let me help you." Luke got up, went to the medicine cabinet, and brought back another Tylenol for her.

As Luke approached her, Lorelai had arisen as well, and he allowed her to pass him, her lithe body brushing against his. Luke, for a second, allowed himself to contemplate the sound of a sharp stiletto heel clicking on the hardwood floor of his apartment, then quickly focused on Lorelai.

"Here." He handed her the pain reliever.

-----

They settled into bed, Luke at first reading, then giving up. Lorelai flipping the TV channels. They continued their usual evening routine, until Lorelai looked up at him and said, "I'm sorry I laughed."

And then she began to giggle.

"No really, I am. So…boots…huh?"

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You feeling better?" Luke indicated her head.

"Oh yeah. Tylenol, that stuff works for me every time."

"Uh…did I upset you?"

Luke waited for her answer.

"Seriously? No. Just surprised. This is a side of you I never knew…I mean, some other guys, I'd expect it. How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you had this…attraction?"

"Not long…"

"Liar."

Luke nodded his head. "A long time."

"God, Rory would have a field day with this!"

Luke looked mortified, and Lorelai quickly jumped in. "Oh no, I'd never tell her, but you just know she'd be looking up the whole psychology of it on the web…"

Lorelai stopped when she noticed the stricken look on his face.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that…" she deadpanned in her best 'Seinfeld' imitation.

Lorelai turned to him. "Serious, Hon. What do I do? Wear these?"

Luke still looked uncomfortable.

"Seriously. I love boots. I love you. Me. You. Boots."

Luke still looked uncomfortable.

"So, do I just wear them?"

"Yeah," Luke admitted.

"And what else do I wear?" she asked.

Silence from Luke, but he was rewarded with a quirked eyebrow and smirk from Lorelai.

"So, do I get to pick?" Lorelai asked.

Luke had never made love to a woman just wearing boots before. And in his fantasies, well, Lorelai was just wearing them. He hadn't thought of the getting there...

"OK. Here's the deal. The Jimmy Choos and the Morton's Salt Ones are a go. The others, no way."

And with that, Lorelai changed the channel. It was Jon Stewart time

TBC


	3. Of Anticipation and Aphrodisiacs

**A/N:** The quotation at the end of this chapter is from Wolfgang Peterson's 1981 movie, 'Das Boot.'

-----

Lorelai and Luke's lives progressed as usual over the next weeks. Every morning, they awoke, most of the time together in either Luke or Lorelai's bed. Many days, Luke was either out the door or downstairs in the diner by the time Lorelai rose, but she soon learned how to persuade Lane and Cesar to volunteer to open on certain mornings. Her best tactic: slipping 'em some dough, dig? What Luke didn't know, couldn't hurt him, especially since he most definitely enjoyed Lorelai's version of "sleeping in" on those mornings.

Most days, both lovers then went to their respective businesses, Luke none the wiser as to the origin of the big grins on his employees' faces, although the opposite certainly wasn't the case. With frequent telephone contact during the day and more frequent visits from Lorelai to the diner, their lives entwined. Luke could not imagine the diner without Lorelai. For two independent persons, they found it quite easy to commingle their time. Their conversation continued with ease, sparkling and stimulating, and they'd perfected a routine of sorts. And there was never a night where they didn't happily tumble into bed, even if Luke was grumbling: life together was just that good.

And the boots? For one thing, they were not an option at Lorelai's home. Furthermore, as was often the case with important issues between the couple, once Luke's secret was out in the open, it was not spoken of again. But the boots remained at the forefront of Lorelai's mind. She sensed potential. She sensed an opportunity for a little bit of fun, to be augmented by a whole bunch of pleasure.

So Lorelai began to carefully bide her time, waiting for the perfect moment. That moment when Luke lowered his guard, when the chance for victory for her and the boots would be at its peak. Then, and only then, would Lorelai strike. It was difficult for her, though. The thought of those perfect specimens of leather artisanship reposing under Luke's bed haunted her. She longed to feel those babies slip over her feet, hugging her ankles, uplifting her calf muscles just so. Her breath rushed out of her lungs in a proto-orgasmic audible gasp, the thought of the buttery leather leaving her face soft and her eyes gazing dreamily across the room.

Forget the memory of soft flannel against her breasts. Forget the memory of his stubble tickling her body. Forget whatever the hormonal supplement du jour was. Anticipation--of both leather and sex--was Lorelai's best aphrodisiac.

Lorelai was not the only person dreaming about those Jimmy Choos. Luke was also carefully biding his time. At first, he strategized as to how to get Lorelai to spend more nights at his place. He even contemplated buying a second set of the boots she'd mandated, to leave at her house. Hell, he thought, her room was so messy that she'd probably not even notice them. But Luke also was a man, and not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and the prospect of sex with his woman was not something he was about to postpone just because they were at her place. So he too was waiting: waiting until Lorelai's guard was lowered, when his chance to see her in those boots could be realized.

Waiting was not difficult for Luke. A man who had pined for eight years could wait a few more nights for his leather moment. Yet, the thought of those boots under his bed haunted Luke. He longed to slip them over her slim yet strong feet, gently pulling the zipper closed. He exhaled harshly as he thought of how he would then run his hands over the outside of the boots, and then coax Lorelai out of her clothing. When he felt especially self-masochistic, he imagined her then walking across his room, her calf muscles uplifted and defined just so, the staccato of the heels against the hardwood, the way she would invariably mock him while being incredibly sexy at the same time. And then Luke imagined how his hands would capture her wrists, as he would lead her to bed. Once there, while still holding her wrists, he would pin them above her head as he made his move, the other hand resting on one delightful leather boot.

Forget sex. Forget oysters. Forget Spanish Fly. Anticipation--of both leather and sex--was Luke's best aphrodisiac.

------

"Need you in the kitchen, Luke!" Cesar barked, breaking Luke's reverie as he watched Lorelai gulp down yet another mug of coffee.

"What's going on back there?" Lorelai asked Lane when Luke didn't come out from the kitchen for a while.

Lane patiently explained the nature of the latest stove problem.

And Lorelai sensed that her opportunity had come. She and Luke had plans to catch a movie at the Black, White and Red that evening, and the boots would go perfectly with her new boot-cut jeans. Lorelai sighed as she thought about how Luke would lean over while they sat on Big Red, and whisper his love of her jeans into her ears, his breath dancing across one of her most sensitive erogenous zones: her ear.

Before she knew it, she'd quietly slipped behind the curtain, run up the stairs, and found herself at the door to the apartment. Pushing the door open, she realized she had no place to hide the booty she was about to score. But Luke, being environmentally conscientious, had a special receptacle for plastic bags from Doose's, and she quickly grabbed two and made her way to the bed. Dropping to her knees, she exhaled in relief when she found that the box was still under Luke's bed. Quickly pulling it out, she opened it and was greeted by a waft of leathery essence.

Breathing deeply, the scent transported Lorelai to places…well to Bergdorf, to Barneys, to any number of emporia. But she could not allow herself to become distracted, and so she quickly stuffed the Jimmy Choos into Doose's plastic bags. Nonetheless, she did allow herself a caress, a touch. Just to make sure they were really Choos, of course. She so hated the thought that Luke might have been defrauded…

------

The rest of the afternoon passed in an excruciatingly slow daze for Lorelai. She couldn't concentrate in the office, compulsively sniffing the contents of the bags she'd stuffed into the bottom drawer of her desk, like a crazed internet addict repeatedly hitting the Refresh key on a favorite spoiler site. She left early, as was her prerogative as owner, and carefully prepared for the evening.

Lorelai returned to the diner to meet Luke for their movie date. He might have realized that something was awry when she actually showed up on time (to minimize wear on the boots, she drove her Jeep to the diner.) Walking into the diner, her sway and posture bolstered her self-confidence. Would Luke notice? But as she arrived, Luke was upstairs getting ready, and afraid that he might try to suggest they stay in, and try on the boots, Lorelai chose to sidle up to the counter instead, rather than go upstairs.

Luke was punctual, needing only to change his flannel and run a comb through his hair, but had to attend to some matters at the cash register. This suited Lorelai perfectly. Spotting Taylor at a corner table, she loudly let Luke know that she was heading over to chat with Taylor. The statements "Those jeans are really working for you" and "They're working for me, too" echoed in her mind as she overtly walked over to Taylor.

Luke was on her like a June bug on a windshield on a humid May evening. "How do you do it, Lorelai?" he whispered, almost leaning against her, bringing enough of himself into contact with her that she had no doubt that the jeans and the boots were working for both of them.

And then he took a step backward, and another step backward…and she realized that he'd seen them. She could sense Luke looking at her feet; sense his eyes moving up her legs, to her ass, and then back down again. For a moment, she swayed, imagining his hands following that same path. But their evening awaited them, so she flipped her hair, simultaneously patted Taylor on the arm and complimented him on the latest flavor addition to the Ice Cream Shoppe, and spun around to face Luke.

"See something you like, sailor?" she purred, then whispered in his ear, "Tonight. Boots on the ground."

Her whispered promise caused any thought Luke had of chastising her for taking the boots outside the apartment to flee his brain, as her warm breath made him shiver. The excitement began to flow, from her breath to his ear, into his veins, down to his groin.

Anticipation--of both leather and sex--was their best aphrodisiac.

"Let's go sailor," she cajoled, as Lorelai grabbed his hand and led him out the door.

-----

How...how…how could walking to the Black, White and Red be a sexual experience? And how could she be so calm? Sashaying over to Big Red, Lorelai pulled Luke down next to her, and looked over at him with a smidgeon of trepidation as the movie started.

She listened to him breathe in harshly, staring ahead at the makeshift screen, as on screen, the Lieutenant said, "They made us all train for this day. 'To be fearless and proud and alone. To need no one, just sacrifice. All for the Fatherland.' Oh God, all just empty words. It's not the way they said it was, is it? I just want someone to be with."

Between the claustrophobia on screen, and the anticipation closing in on them, the movie could not be over soon enough.

_TBC_


	4. Of Man, Woman, and Boots

Much later, they were back in Luke's apartment. It had been a special torture for Luke to spend time watching the movie while Lorelai sat there wearing…his boots. And then to walk back with her, and watch her climb those stairs in front of him…to see the teasing spark in her eyes… 

Luke decided to let Lorelai take the lead. He'd taken a huge leap of faith by confiding in her in the first place, and did not want to scare her away. He wasn't at all surprised when she was her normal self as they ended their evening. Luke was seated in his chair, enjoying a beer as Lorelai sat on his lap and teased him. It was a special little ritual that she enjoyed. She'd go on about her day and he'd patiently listen, all while pretending to be annoyed with her.

"Every day," she prattled on, "I wake up with you, talk to you, and eat at your diner, drink your coffee goodness. I can't even imagine being in a situation where you had to be gone from me again. Summer without me at the Ren Faire? So not ever happening again." She reached down and removed the beer bottle from his hand. "There's not a place I can go in this town where there isn't some trace of you, Luke. I don't know how I can ever be without you." She placed a kiss on his lips, which soon deepened. "I love everything about you. The way you look, the way you smell...well except when you cook those weird turkey burgers," she giggled as she buried her nose into his neck. The stubble tickle-scratched her and she could not resist flicking her tongue out to taste him.

Luke was more than happy to respond, wrapping both arms around her. The tenseness of the movie, the anticipatory tenseness about the boots, had left him emotionally spent. But being around Lorelai when she was this infectious, that was his intoxication, the sun that provided the heat to his days and nights. He could not repress the faint shiver that rippled through him as her tongue flicked against his skin.

"Mmmm…" she murmured, "You taste…so good…"

Luke relaxed into her, silently willing her to continue talking. This soft sensual side of Lorelai was one he treasured as much as her chatty, exuberant side.

"Keep talkin'," he insisted.

"Oh yeah? You sure you don't want to…shut me up?" she teased as she kissed him.

Breaking for air, Luke told her, "Your voice. So sexy." Kiss. "You. So sexy. You drove me crazy with those boots tonight…" he added, his voice low, smooth, and husky. "So…so beautiful." Kiss. He ran his hand up and down her thigh. "Lose the jeans," he requested.

Lorelai whimpered ever so slightly at his request, the sound muffled within his own mouth.

But she didn't move.

"Lose the jeans," he said with more authority, even as he shivered again in anticipation.

"I've got a better idea," Lorelai murmured, giving him one last kiss, then rising, holding onto his hand as long and as lingeringly as she could. "Bed." She motioned her head towards his bed, as she slowly disappeared into the bathroom.

-----

In her robe, Lorelai emerged from the bathroom to discover that Luke had dimmed the lights and was sitting at the edge of the bed. His eyes lightened with a mixture of relief and delight when he noticed that she still had the boots on. He stood, awaiting her arrival next to him, and Lorelai reached both hands out to him.

Holding each hand in his, Luke placed a soft kiss in each palm, before bringing her hands close together, clasping both wrists now with one hand. He pulled those hands to his chest, placing them close to his heart. His free hand dropped to settle at her hip, pulling her infinitesimally closer, before slowly moving upward, tracing the gentle dip where hip merged into waist. Frustrated by the terry bulk of her robe, he pulled open its tie at the waist, and slipped his hand inside, continuing his journey upward to her breast.

Now it was her turn to shiver.

"Cold?" he murmured, pulling her even closer so his mouth settled by her ear.

"Hot!" she insisted, but with another shiver.

Luke's tongue flicked towards her ear, tracing the lobe and intensifying her shiver. He could feel her breath.

"Want you…" they both exhaled at the same time, and then Lorelai slipped her wrists from his grasp.

She reached up to cup his face, and pulling it down, latched her mouth onto his, her tongue seeking entrance. Even as she intensified the kiss, she shrugged the robe off her shoulders, and Luke vaguely realized that not only was his fantasy in his arms, she was dressed as he had ultimately fantasized. In the boots. And nothing else.

With ultimate willpower, he slightly pushed her away, and was thrilled to see that she was actually blushing as his eyes roved up and down her body, blatantly telegraphing his intentions.

And yet, she was the same Lorelai he knew. "See something you like?" she purred.

Luke did not answer. His eyes could not stop roving, up to her face, to the desire in her eyes, then down down down over every aspect of her body, finally stopping at the boots. The contrast of dark leather against her pale skin caused the blood to rush to Luke's head, pounding crushing waves between his ears.

"Lose the clothes, Luke," he dimly heard her request.

Her wish was his reason for being at that moment, and he quickly undressed while it was her turn to watch him. And she giggled as he finally stood there wearing only socks, and gave him a quick push onto the bed. She knelt in front of him and pulled his socks off.

"Walk for me," he requested.

Proudly, with not a hint of embarrassment, she walked alongside the bed.

"My god…" Luke exhaled, in disbelief, still trying hard to fathom that he'd actually found this beautiful woman and that she was willing to meet him more than halfway.

"Next time, we're playing fishing boat," she teased, lightening the mood as she knelt again, alongside him. "Sorry I ruined the boots."

His hand was caressing her leg above the boots. "Doesn't matter," he murmured, "I'll buy more."

And then she surprised him. Before he could react, her head dipped, and her mouth surrounded him, engulfed him, her lips and tongue and teeth sliding over him.

He groaned, the sound incomprehensible. All he was aware of were the boots, her mouth, the boots, Lorelai.

------

It was the middle of the night. Somehow, she had ended up next to him, the boots removed. One of his hands was entangled in her hair. As Luke drifted in and out of sleep, the words hot, wet and boot flitted in and out of his mind. He wove his fingers through her hair, dimly remembering how she had pressed gentle kisses against his chest, neck, and face, and then vividly remembering how with one firm push, he'd been inside her.

She'd worn the boots. She'd worn the boots.

_TBC_


	5. Of Rain and Epilogues

Once the ice was broken, so to speak, the boots became less of a presence in their lives. Lorelai considered the boots to be a delightful little secret she and Luke shared, and she was savvy enough in matters of both ego and the heart to not tease him about them too often. So, for the first few weeks after the Jimmy Choos were broken in, there had been little activity in that department. 

She actually found Luke's boot interest to be quite advantageous. Not only did she now have a new source of footwear conveniently reposing underneath Luke's bed, she had a surefire way of stoking Luke's fire should it ever need…stoking. And the knowledge that he'd always know what he could get her for a special occasion.

As the summer wore on, Lorelai proposed to Luke, her (soon-to-be their) home was being renovated, but Rory and she were estranged. Lorelai, always a playful and witty person, felt the need for some summer delight.

Luke was finally taking her up to his mysterious fishing cabin, and Lorelai was beside herself with excitement. A weekend in a cabin with Luke, all alone, was just what they both needed. She knew she'd not been the happiest fiancée and wanted to do something for Luke.

And that's when she remembered the fishing boots.

-----

As usual, Luke complained when he loaded her baggage into the bed of the trunk. It was more and more obvious that he'd truly never lived with a woman before. Lorelai assured him that she had packed many "options", of which he would be the lucky beneficiary. During the drive to the cabin, Lorelai had smirked with self-satisfaction, for in one of those bags, she'd managed to squirrel away the yellow fishing boots.

As they approached the lake area, a summer downpour was baptizing the truck. Lorelai was grateful for the thoroughness with which Luke had stowed their bags, remembering to cover it all with a tarpaulin. They were silent as Luke slowly maneuvered through the thunderstorm; he could barely see the unpaved road through the sheets of rain pouring down from the sky.

Arriving at the cabin, Lorelai began to have second thoughts, though. It looked like it hadn't been painted in years, and as they ran in through the door that Luke quickly unlocked, Lorelai desperately hoped that there would be light and electricity.

"There's a wood stove in the corner." Luke motioned in its direction after they'd rushed into the cabin from the rain. "I'll go turn on the generator. You'll probably be wanting electricity…"

Lorelai surveyed the tiny cabin. It wasn't that bad, she thought. She noticed the aforementioned wood stove, and a table and two chairs in the corner. Next to the stove, a door led to a smallish bedroom, with a comfy-looking double bed in the corner. Off that room, it looked like there was even some sort of indoor plumbing. Lorelai sighed with relief, and moved towards the bed, which looked like it was covered with an antique quilt. She sat down on it and fingered the patchwork.

"I'm gonna start a fire," Luke called to her, "I keep a pile of wood on the back porch."

Luke soon had a fire burning in the stove, and suggested that Lorelai take off her clothes.

"Dirty!" she smirked.

"No, we're both soaked to the skin. I'm gonna run and get the bags."

After he returned, they quickly changed, and soon were snuggled on the bed, Lorelai listening to the rain.

"I just love rain," she chattered, "summer rain…"

"Shhh…" Luke advised, as he began stroking her body underneath the quilt. "Slow down. Relax. It's just us, no clocks, nothing to do..."

In return, Lorelai shifted her weight, reached under the quilt as well, and began to run her fingertips gently down his length, then left him feeling bereft as she moved onto his thigh.

"Don't stop," he requested.

Lorelai smiled, her fingers returning to stroke him. He sprang to life under her hand, as the rain pounded even harder onto the cabin roof.

"You know," he murmured, "out here, no one can hear…a thing…and with the rain…"

He moved down between her legs and, before she knew it, she proved him right.

"Lorelai," he whispered after her heart had slowed to a more normal rate, "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever known."

She reached up and brushed her fingers through his hair, before wickedly saying, "And you'd better remember that forever."

The rain continued coming down.

He settled his body over hers, and she reached out to guide him to her, as he gently slid inside her. The rain softened to a pitter-patter, and as they made love, all she could hear was the rain, and Luke occasionally exhaling her name in rhythm with the rain.

------

Afterward, they lay together, wrapped in the quilt; Luke's breathing finally slowing while she stroked his hair. The rain had stopped.

"This quilt is so…warm," she murmured. "Is it a family heirloom?"

"Dunno about the heirloom part," Luke admitted, "but my grandmother made it."

"It's beautiful…"

"No, you're beautiful," he whispered in return. Luke took her hand and kissed her fingertips, one by one, punctuating each kiss with a syllable. "I am so lucky."

"Oh, I don't know, I think we both are." Lorelai trembled as he took her other hand, and slowly kissed each fingertip. "Anyhow, I'm hungry. Where's the food?"

Lorelai jumped up, and Luke laughed.

-----

The morning was bright and sunny, and Luke woke to actually find that Lorelai was already up and out of bed. Opening the cabin door, he saw her standing on the front porch.

Lorelai turned to grin at him. "'Morning," she smirked, as she watched his eyes move up and down her body, from the skimpy sky-blue bikini to the yellow Morton's Salt Girl fishing boots.

It was going to be a great day to be Luke Danes.

-  
Epilogue, the following Spring, after Rory returns to Yale

"We can't stay, Mom. We were in Hartford looking at some new hardware for the Inn's kitchen. Just decided to drop by to pick up that crystal bowl you thought would look good at the reception desk."

Luke and Lorelai had been ushered into the Gilmore manse. As usual, the opulent surroundings, symbolic of conspicuous consumption, made Luke nervous and uncomfortable.

Luke took an involuntary step backwards as Emily Gilmore brushed past him.

"We can't stay," Luke parroted, his shoulders stiff, his fingers clenching and flexing Lorelai's hand in an attempt at self-soothing.

"Come, sit," Emily demanded, "and have a drink. Who's driving?"

"I am, Mom," Lorelai replied.

"Well then. Luke, we do have beer. Just for you. Amelia!" Emily summoned the maid du jour.

After the maid left with the order, Emily sighed and rolled her eyes. Lorelai shot a quick glance at Luke and jumped in to forestall the latest litany of maid woes, by asking Emily, "So where is it, Mom?"

Emily was distracted. "Oh Amelia?" she shouted after the maid, "Luncheon would be nice for my guests as well."

"Yes ma'am!" The maid curtseyed; she had heard Emily in time.

"Mom, I told you, we can't stay--"

Emily opened her mouth.

"Look, Mrs. Gilmore, I mean Emily, Lorelai's had a busy morning. She's tired," Luke said as he patted his fiancée's hand, "I'm sure she can spend time with you later this week."

Lorelai whispered into his ear. "Nice try."

"Very well then, I'll just bring the bowl out here."

Lorelai sighed as Amelia brought the beer to Luke.

"Let's sit," she recommended, and guided Luke to the love seat.

Luke gratefully attacked his beer. Amelia, on the ball, noticed that he'd drained his beer in record time and retrieved a second from the kitchen for him before he'd even noticed.

"I'd like a Manhattan," Emily advised her maid.

"So any plans for the weekend, Mom?" Lorelai asked.

"We were going to look for real estate. Investments, you know," Emily advised. "And how is Rory? Is she back in that sorry excuse for Section Eight housing? I never thought a granddaughter of mine would…"

"Why not, Mom? She's living with her friend Paris. She's perfectly fine."

Luke rolled his eyes, and then closed them, having drained a third beer now.

Emily continued. "Surely you don't expect her to live in that hovel of a crack house, do you?" When Lorelai looked up, she continued, "Are you out of your mind?"

"She's an adult, Mom," Lorelai replied through clenched teeth.

Emily would not stop. "Maybe I can ask Shira to call Logan. If not, if it'll help, I'll talk to Logan myself."

"Mom, it's too late. Logan is the reason she had to move back in with Paris. Please, just drop it. Just leave it alone."

"All I'm saying is--maybe I should call Christopher--"

"Please, just drop it," Lorelai said more forcefully.

Emily passed in front of them, and gave the couple a long stare before giving in with a sigh. "All right. But mark my words, if anything happens…" She trailed off as her drink arrived. "Ah, thank you Amelia." She crossed in front of the couple once more on her way to the crystal bowl. "So Lorelai, it's actually over in the corner, the bowl that is…"

Lorelai looked over at Luke. He had suddenly turned pale and stiffened, his hands on his knees.

"Are you OK?" Lorelai hissed. "How many beers have you had?"

Luke continued staring ahead.

Lorelai was worried. Ever since April, Luke was just acting more and more like…well, like not Luke.

"Here, let me bring it over…" Emily advised.

"No, Mom, it's OK, I'll come over in a minute."

Luke now had moved one hand to Lorelai's knee, gripping onto it for dear life.

Lorelai looked over at Emily, and then blanched, even as Luke's grip tightened even more.

EmilyGilmore was wearing knee-high leather boots.

_fin_


End file.
